


to heal and to understand

by storiesofdistantstars



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Healing, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), No Angst, The Force, commentary on force healing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:47:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24575542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesofdistantstars/pseuds/storiesofdistantstars
Summary: Keva learns an important lesson about what it means to be a Jedi.
Relationships: Original Jedi Character(s) & Original Jedi Character(s)
Kudos: 2





	to heal and to understand

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the first prompt, "compassion," of the Jedi June event on Tumblr.

“Master,” Keva said, folding his hands in his sleeves. “What is that?”

Master Tyren was sitting crosslegged on the ground, running gentle fingers over the back of the creature next to him. “What does it look like, padawan?” he asked.

The creature was quadrupedal, about eighteen inches long, with smooth skin of a muddy grey color that looked as if it was _slimy,_ a stubby tail, two small, rounded ears set lopsidedly on its head, and features that looked rather as if it had been hit quite hard in the face multiple times.

In short, it looked ugly, and Keva could not fathom why his master was _petting_ it.

He sighed, and tried to focus on an _actual_ answer. “It looks like… is that a vurrel?” The creatures were known for being dangerous, more willing to bite or kick than lie sedately in the dirt and be petted- not that most would want to pet them. “Master…”

The vurrel made a snuffling, mucusy sound, like a child with a runny nose. Master Tyren soothed it, gloved hands smoothing over its lumpy side.

“Come sit,” he said, patting the ground next to him with his free hand. Keva did so, and stared at the creature with reluctant fascination.

“These things are dangerous,” Keva pointed out, linking his hands over his knees. “They can break bones when they kick, and their bites get infected.”

Master Tyren smiled at him patiently. “They can, yes. If you don’t treat them respectfully. Why don’t you try and get a sense of how our new friend is feeling?”

“Master,” Keva said, instinctively pulling away from the creature. “You want me to touch that thing?”

“I do,” Master Tyren said. “It will not kick or bite you, as long as you keep your fingers away from its mouth. I will not let it hurt you.”

Keva sighed, although the pleased warmth he felt at his master’s words made it hard not to smile. “Do I have to?”

It wasn’t really a question, and from the way Master Tyren looked over at him, he knew it. Keva would do anything his master asked. He just… didn’t _want_ to.

Grimacing only a little bit, he scrubbed his hand on his robes and laid it on the vurrel’s side.

It was, in fact, _distinctly_ slimy.

Keva allowed himself two seconds to find that unpleasant, then closed his eyes and breathed.

For a moment, they just breathed in tandem, him and the vurrel, and he made himself put aside his discomfort and anxiety and instinctive dislike of the creature. It wasn’t helpful now.

Sensing the emotions of another being was actually easier with animals, for the same reason it was easier with small children- their simple, uncomplicated feelings and desires meant it was easier to get a sense of them, without the layers and precision of older sentients. Right now, that meant it was easy to figure out…

“It’s uncomfortable,” Keva said, faintly surprised. “In pain.”

“Good,” Master Tyren said, his voice pleased. “Do you know why?”

Keva breathed, and felt a sharp, sympathetic twinge in his own body. “Its leg,” he said, opening his eyes to point to a gash that was slowly seeping purplish blood. “It’s infected.”

“It is,” Master Tyren said, sitting back in the way Keva knew meant he had something to say.

“It is, as you said, dangerous. It has no tangible benefit as an individual- at least, to us. One could argue that it would be natural, to allow it to die here- it certainly would, without intervention.”

Master Tyren moved to stroke around the vurrel’s neck, achingly gentle, uncaring of the unpleasant texture of its skin or the teeth that could take his fingers off. The vurrel whined, eyes closing as it trembled with every wheezing breath.

He looked up at Keva, green eyes steady. “But it is in pain,” he said softly. “And we are Jedi.”

Keva nodded, his master’s steadiness making something in his chest ease. “I’ll heal it.”

Master Tyren’s pleased smile made him go warm inside, and he allowed himself a single second to savor it before he closed his eyes and laid a hand on its side. His padawan braid swung forwards, over his shoulder, and his master brushed it back with the hand not touching the vurrel.

Keva breathed, steady and even, and focused.

Healing, he’d found, felt almost like meditation, but more… external. A little like meditating with his master, or his sibling-padawans, that feeling of _another_ pinging against his mind.

The vurrel was afraid.

Terrified, because it was in pain, and at their mercy, and it had no way of knowing whether they would harm it.

And somewhere, beneath the pain and fear, Keva found that it wanted to go home. Found impressions of pups, smaller than his hand and still blind and helpless.

It whined, and absently he soothed it, stroking across its side softly. He could feel it look up at him, dark eyes wet and beady and impossibly trusting.

Keva found he was honored by its trust.

It had no reason to trust him, to believe that he would not hurt it, believe that he would help it to go home to its pups. He hadn’t liked it, hadn’t trusted it, but its life was in his hands and it believed that he would help it.

He thought of the pups again, small and innocent, and then the evenings in the creche, watching over the toddlers in the safety of the Temple as they gazed at him with the same unwavering trust.

Keva breathed, and looked in.

Force Healing was not, in itself, a particularly complex ability. It was simply allowing the body to do what it already _wanted_ to do, helping to speed along the process and providing the energy needed for the body to rebuild itself. It required willpower, a _need_ to heal the patient, and that was where the danger lay, history littered with those who had turned to desperation or worse, the Dark with the intent to _save,_ tearing themselves apart in the process.

And in the same way, it required _understanding._ A Healer, more than any other Jedi, had to be able to set aside their personal feelings in order to focus, to _care_ for their charge in a way that did not allow for resentment or disgust or dislike. It was impossible if the Healer didn’t believe, truly, that their life was worth saving. And in that way, with selflessness and universal, unconditional care for life, a skilled Healer could mend the wounds of their worst enemy.

The vurrel whimpered, leg twitching in pain as the infection burned away and flesh began to knit back together.

“Good,” Master Tyren murmured, his voice sounding very far away. Keva smiled softly without opening his eyes.

For a moment, he and the creature breathed in unison, and then he sat back, almost swaying as the world abruptly rushed in. Master Tyren’s hand landed on his back as he blinked away the dizziness.

“You might have put a bit more of yourself in than you needed,” he murmured, hand tracing up and down Keva’s spine. “Very good, Keva.”

The vurrel stretched out its leg, testing the muscles- probably still achy and tingly with the rapid healing- and got to its feet, legs wobbling like a newborn.

Keva watched as it walked away, rapidly picking up speed as it remembered how to move, and felt a little wistful.

“Are you ready to go home?” Master Tyren asked, getting to his feet and brushing off his gloves. He offered a hand to Keva.

He looked up at his master. There was affection in his eyes, simple pride for his student’s achievements, for lessons learned.

“Yes, Master,” Keva said, and took his hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments appreciated! Come say hi on my tumblr @storiesofdistantstars!


End file.
